


You Pretty Thing

by cricketchirps



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: ADHD!Carlos, Bondage, Capture, Horror, M/M, More tags to be added, Obsessive Behavior, Stalker!Cecil, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cricketchirps/pseuds/cricketchirps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos the scientist has just arrived in Night Vale, and he's more than eager to start researching. Glow clouds, hooded figures, mysterious dog parks, and more are all just waiting for his undivided attention.<br/>Little does he know, he's being studied as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lab Coat

A scientist is always focused.

Carlos had told himself long ago that he couldn’t get distracted during his research term in Night Vale. He had a reputation for wandering off, studying the strange growth patterns of _Lonicera hildebrandiana_ instead of the core temperatures of a dormant volcano with the rest of his team. The sudden lava pocket burst had nearly burned the rubber soles off his converse, singeing the laces and melting the aglets. Ever since his position as Chief Scientist had been threatened, he was determined to keep his wandering mind in check. 

But now, facing what was arguably the most scientifically staggering town in the United States, he hardly had to force himself into focus. 

Sunsets that rang with vibrations and noise. Hooded figures that left trails of frost behind everywhere they drifted. Nothing was documented, nothing was explained, and everything was just begging for his misguided attention. Carlos had a passion for “out of the ordinary,” and he was thankful that he’d taken his coworker’s advice and plunged himself into the wonderful terrors of Night Vale.

“Morning, Mr. Salcito.”

“Good morning.”

Carlos turned down the radio and wiped his forehead with his lab coat sleeve, smiling at his new intern and extending a sweaty hand. The desert heat would take some getting used to. He’d been assured that the laboratory he’d rented would come with basic air conditioning, but upon arrival his landlord had informed him that it’d “run away.” Carlos, who was scientifically certain air conditioners couldn’t sprout legs and wander off, decided to put the dilemma to the side until he’d finished moving in.

“You must be Misumi. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir,” the young woman said, dropping the box of glass petri dishes and shaking his hand with an overly eager smile. Her straight black hair was drawn up into a tight ponytail, but the bright pink scrunchie holding it in place ruined her attempt at a professional image.

He winced at the suspicious shattering, eyes falling to the box on the floor. “Call me Carlos, please. Listen, thank you for responding to my advertisement so quickly, you were the first person to call—“

“How many credits am I getting?”

Carlos paused, laughing a little and rubbing the back of his neck. This hadn’t been what he was expecting. “Excuse me?”

“How many college credits?”

“Three,” he said quietly, clearing his throat and moving to pick up the shattered testing materials. “Three credits for the year.”

Misumi smiled and straightened her lab coat, looking over her shoulder to the glass double doors. “Thank you, sir! I’m almost done unloading the truck, it’ll only be—“

“Oh, no,” Carlos interrupted, rushing to stand between her and the exit. He blushed a little at his hastiness, but he didn’t want her breaking any more valuable equipment. She’d definitely need more training than he’d anticipated. “No, no, no. Not to worry. I’ve got it. If you could... find the air conditioner, that would be wonderful. Be back in a moment.”

Praying she wouldn’t find a way to burn down the building while he was out, Carlos set the petri dishes on the nearby counter and rushed back into the parking lot. The company van was still loaded with crates, the lightest of which Misumi had taken upon herself to unload earlier that day. Taking a deep breath, Carlos removed his lab coat and set it in the trunk, manipulating the nearest box into his grip and nearly staggering back into the lab.

When he returned, his lab coat was gone.

Carlos searched everywhere. He liked to think himself as an orderly person, thoroughly cleaning his apartment back in Arizona at least once a week, and he wasn’t accustomed to losing things. Even with his easily distracted nature, he prided himself on keeping his belongings organized. 

He looked behind the boxes, in the driver’s seat, and even under the vehicle, but his pristine lab coat was nowhere to be seen. It had vanished, along with his calculator, cell phone, and research passes.

The scientist took a step back, scratching the back of his head, before returning inside. His stomach twisted as he retraced his steps, small drops of sweat littering behind him as he searched the workspace.

“Sir?”

He turned around, smiling at Misumi and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Fine, Misumi,” he said, giving her a short nod. And of course it was. Everything was fine. It was just a lab coat. It would only take him minutes to forget about it, and the nausea would subside. There were dozens of lab coats in the van, and it’d be no trouble replacing his belongings.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

But still, even by Night Vale standards...

...that was _strange_.


	2. Glasses

“We’re moving.”

Carlos’s small team was trapped beneath the tarp of the Big Rico’s entrance, watching as an armadillo shell shattered against the sandy sidewalk. Mark, another community college intern who showed even less initiative than Misumi, jumped and took shelter behind the Chief Scientist.

“We can’t,” Misumi said, taking off her safety goggles and glancing up at Carlos. He had to admit he enjoyed being looked up to- he was a stout man, and he liked the idea of towering over someone else for a change. “We have to submit the final report.”

“I know, I know,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily. His glasses were knocked slightly askew, but his mind was spinning too much for him to pay them much notice. “I just didn’t think it’d be this dangerous.”

The final report was his entire reason for visiting Night Vale. Carlos had set off for the strange town in hopes of writing his own _Origin of Species_ , so to speak, but he hypothesized a glowing cloud raining decaying organic matter would attract more skepticism than the evolution of a finch. 

Still, he was a scientist, and he would fulfill his goal. He’d abandoned too many projects in the past, and he was certain to stay focused on finishing his report. His job, his pride, and his sanity were at stake. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and—

_CRACK!_

His fragile train of thought was derailed with the shattering of a turtle shell, splattering not ten feet away. Frustrated, Carlos stormed inside and picked up a sturdy umbrella, holding the top in his hand and hooking the handle around the animal’s body to draw it under the tarp. As inconvenient as the weather was, it practically screamed for proper analysis.

Urging Mark to pick up the poor creature with gloved hands, Carlos cleared a tabletop inside and took off his glasses, replacing them with his goggles. While the oozing organism didn’t appear to be a threat, he wasn’t sure what to expect. The cloud had looked docile enough, if not slightly radioactive, and he’d been caught on the other side of town when the spiders and lizards started falling.

Needless to say, he'd hardly be surprised if the turtle lifted its graying head from the dissection tray and stared singing _Acorda Maria Bonita_.

Carlos rolled up his new lab coat sleeves and picked the creature apart. He was no biologist, but he’d been forced to take a class in marine biology at Cornell to meet his credit requirements. The animal’s blood had coagulated long ago, as if it’d died before it even hit the ground.

The next several hours were filled with microscope slides, blood tests, and interns trying to entertain themselves with nearly anything but science. But every piece of the puzzle Carlos put together only made him more bewildered, his head starting to spin from the improbability of it all. The species was common to _Florida_ , of all places, and was only two years of age. It seemed to have grown in its usual habitat, and Carlos had even managed to find a good chunk of sulfur-rich soil under one of its claws. How it ended up in the desert was inexplicable. 

Biting his lip and running his hand through his hair, he sat back down in his uncomfortable spinning chair, poking fruitlessly at the misplaced animal. He couldn’t keep adding things to his final report without a coherent explanation! If the committee read about this, they’d peg him for a joke. His funding would disappear, and he’d be left with a stained lab coat and a hoard of whining interns. 

Carlos brought his clipboard into his lap as it was, grabbing his pen with a sickeningly slippery hand and jotting down his findings. This was only his first month in Night Vale. Surely, he’d have plausible discoveries to share with the board before his due date. 

He squinted at the text, fumbling over his own messy script, and reached his other hand over for his glasses.

_Huh?_

He forced his eyes to stay on the form he was filling out, ignoring the tightening sensation in his chest. He’d taken note of where he’d set them, he was certain of it. They were just to his left, right beside the dissection trey.

Still, as his fingers searched, he couldn’t find the frames.

“Everyone?” Carlos asked, standing up and smiling shakily. His hand traced the empty counter space as he drew his team’s attention, waving lightly. “Yes, hello. Phones away, please. Yes, Aaron, I mean you. Has anyone seen my glasses?”

Several students snickered. Carlos’ toes tightened in his shoes, smile disappearing. He’d been able to put up with their shenanigans before, but his tolerance was growing low. “Seriously, guys. This isn’t a joke. Where are they?”

The laughter grew louder, two lab assistants nudging each other as another hid her grin behind her hand. Carlos was a smart man, and he glanced around the room to see where his students were staring. Sure enough, nearly everyone’s eyes were on Mark Hamilton.

Carlos straightened his posture and allowed himself to smirk, walking over to the ginger and holding out his hand.

Mark, whose face had been contorting into almost horrific gestures, finally broke out into hooting laughter. The glasses were returned, lenses thoroughly smudged from many interns’ fingers. While Carlos had been focused on the project, his assistants had been passing off his spectacles amongst themselves every five minutes, playing a cruel game of Hot Potato to see who’d get caught.

Carlos rolled his eyes, putting his glasses on and taking deep, subtle breaths. It was fine. Everything was fine. Just a typical practical joke.

“Very funny, everyone. Very funny. Well done.”

\--------------------

He hummed as he washed his hair, thankful to be back in his own apartment. As much as he loved the excitement of Night Vale, he was grateful to leave all the perplexity behind and relax in his own home. The water coming out the showerhead was clear, the music echoing from his laptop speakers was familiar, and everything had its place. Carlos’ mind could wander as much as it wanted, and he’d still be able to keep himself grounded in blissful familiarity.

Washing the last of the conditioner out of his hair (which, admittedly, was growing a little too long), he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He took his towel off the rack, just where it belonged, and wrapped it around his waist. Everything was just the way it was supposed to be, even if only for six hours a day.

He ran his hand over the foggy mirror and studied his reflection in the mirror, humming and running his hand over the growing stubble. A shave. That’s what he needed. A nice, relaxing shave before he finally unwound.

Smiling softly and opening the bathroom door a crack to keep the mirror from fogging up again, Carlos lathered his face with shaving cream and rinsed his hands in the sink. Not wanting to knick himself, he improved his visibility by flicking on the lights and reaching for his glasses.

His glasses, which had disappeared from the sink’s rim during his shower.


	3. Haircut

Carlos flicked his head as he browsed through the aisles, trying to get the hair out of his face. There hadn’t been time for menial tasks like dental appointments or barber visits. He'd been too occupied with science and security system installments. As it was, his negligence towards personal hygiene was interfering with his daily life.

He sighed in defeat and reached into his satchel. He pulled out a rubber band and tied his hair up into an efficient, if not messy, ponytail. Browsing the produce aisle, Carlos bumped into another man. The tomato fell to the ground and skittered away on four large, hairy legs.

“Excuse me.”

“Pardon me.”

The two men side-stepped each other in the small aisle. The scientist went left and the ginger went right. They laughed awkwardly as they mirrored one another. Finally, the pale man stepped aside. He pressed a freckled hand to Carlos’ arm and guided him around to the other side. 

“Thank you,” Carlos said, smiling bending over and searching for the missing fruit. It was long gone, already growing vines along the back corner of the grocery store. “Damn it.”

“Here.” The taller, stronger man reached around and picked up one of the tomatoes. With a small squeeze, the little legs sprung forth again, skittering in the air. The ginger stroked the small stem, watching the legs retract into the red flesh of the fruit. Smiling, he handed it to the outsider.

“Thank you,” Carlos said, nodding and grabbing two extra tomatoes. He’d need them for research. 

“Of course,” the stranger said, extending an arm to the new town resident. “Earl. Earl Harlan.”

“Carlos,” he replied. He’d stopped giving out his last name. Even meeting a stranger in a grocery store made him paranoid. “The Scientist” would do just fine. 

Earl’s eyes went wide, and he turned around to glance at the radio in the upper corner of the store. It was mandatory to keep the devices running at all times. The steady stream of static of the speakers overhead was a constant white noise to the residents of Night Vale. Earl bit his lip and drew his brows together, looking over Carlos again.

“Carlos. Carlos the Scientist. You’re new here, right?”

Carlos shook his head. How did Earl know who he was? “I’ve been here long enough. Why? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Earl shook his head. He turned back to the watermelons and tapped them with nervous fingers. 

“Earl.”

The ginger kept his face away, toes curling in his muddied boots.

“ _Earl._ ” 

“Have you listened to the radio?” the ginger asked, jumping a little at the stranger’s harsh tone.

Carlos shook his head, glancing up at the seemingly innocent radio. The tiny device was still playing static, a constant white noise in the small dystopia. “No. I’m a scientist. A scientist is always busy. I haven’t had the time. Why?”

Earl reached around Carlos and picked up a carton of spider’s milk. He read over the nutritional information. Despite the mundane action, his tone was still stressed. “You should listen sometime.”

The scientist could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising. The way Earl was speaking was making his stomach churn. As a man who strived to keep what few aspects of his life that he could in order, he didn’t like having a complete stranger order him about with such urgency. “Why do you say that?”

The taller man shook his head, turning away from Carlos and starting his way down the produce aisle. His pace was considerably quicker than it had been before. Dismissive, Earl continued to skim over the nutritional information on the milk carton. “Just give it a listen! Trust me!” 

Unsettled, Carlos watched the stranger bound off. He looked down at his watch and cracked his fingers. He didn’t see the purpose of listening to the community radio. But if it could help him solve some mysteries of the town...

Swallowing, he turned away, headed in the opposite direction and abandoning his cart. He wasn’t hungry.

\--------------------

“Just a trim, please.”

As barber tied the barber's gown around Carlos' neck, Carlos swallowed. He grit his teeth and tried to relax. 

“No shave? It comes with the package.” Telly, a man with a swooping belly and sausage fingers, began to wash his scissors and razors in the sink. He had reddened cheeks and a debonair mustache. His hair was combed over, styled with the most expensive of gels.

"No, thank you," Carlos said. He closed his eyes. Haircuts had always relaxed him. Work, confidence, and security were waning in his life. He was due for a calming haircut. "I like a bit of stubble."

Telly nodded. Skilled hands snipped curl after curl, a small mound of hair forming under his chair. Carlos found himself humming along with the radio in the corner. His shoulders went loose after weeks of mounting tension.

Yes. This was exactly what he needed.

"How long have you lived in Night Vale?" Carlos' voice was distant.

Telly rinsed his fingers before continuing with his bangs. "Six years, give or take."

"Where did you live beforehand?"

"Cincinnati."

"How did you get used to it?"

"Used to what?"

Carlos laughed. "Used to _this._ The raining animals. The bloodstone circles. The hooded figures."

Telly let out a warm, full laugh. "You never do," he confessed. "You get swept up in the madness." He moved to the back of Carlos' head. "But, eventually, you realize the madness was always inside you. It just takes a place like this to unleash it."

Carlos cracked an eye open. "You didn't fight it?"

"One can only fight for so long. You can't escape who you are."

Fifteen minutes came and went. They exchanged bills, shook hands, and set up a future appointment. Scheduling it now would keep his hair from getting out of control again. 

"Thank you again," Carlos said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He felt like a q-tip, but the trim was necessary. "You don't know how much I needed this."

"Anytime," Telly said, nodding at Carlos. The scientist whistled and walked outside, hands buried in his pockets. He wasn't going to let the madness take over. He would stay objective, observing the world through his own set of scientific lenses.

He'd start with the radio.

\--------------------

Telly picked up his broom and walked over to his work station. Frowning, he called to his assistant manager.

"Barbara?" he called.

"Hm?" she replied, not taking her eyes off her magazine.

"Did you clean the station?"

"No, why?"

The large man stared down at the checkered floor. The entire area was spotless. No hair, no water, no residue. Nothing. The mound of luscious, dark brown curls had disappeared.

Shrugging, he walked back to the front desk, putting on his reading glasses. "No reason."

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think! Please leave a comment below- I adore constructive criticism and would really appreciate it on my first (public) work.  
> My tumblr is doctor-chelley, so feel free to message me with feels or writing tips. More to come soon!


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